All language subtitles for cybill_s01e04_look_whos_stalking

Carter's the can -do market.

Delicious fresh -baked goods.

Can -do! More.

More? More. Still rolling. Go again.

Can -do!

I'm not buying it.

Can -do!

I'm still not buying it!

Carter's, the can -do market.

Tasty deli treats.

Can -do!

Ocean fresh seafood.

Can -do!

Garden fresh produce.

Of course, my first love is the theater.

You are the can -do girl.

No, I'm not. Yes, you are.

I've seen that commercial a hundred
times.

Can -do.

Right, all right, not so loud.

Everybody's got to do something to pay
their rent.

No, really, I think it's very charming.

Actually, it made me switch to that
supermarket.

Really?

No, I'm just flirting with you.

Can I buy you a cup of coffee?

How do I know you're not some psycho?

sleeps with a tinfoil hat to keep the
CIA from controlling his dreams.

Why, is that a turn -off?

Yeah,

I met him while I was walking Shamu
here.

Jeff's on location.

I'll tell you the rest at lunch,
Marianne.

No, I'm not going to tell you anymore.
I'm not.

He's a psychiatrist.

Grayish hair, blue eyes, big... feet.

See you at lunch.

Zoe, I didn't say you couldn't say it. I
said I'd prefer if you wouldn't say it.

You're home early.

Monster cramps.

Zoe, please.

I have cramps because I have a monthly
cycle because I'm a woman, Dad.

Well, you'll always be my little girl.
Well, your little girl's uterus is

fluffing off superfluous tissue.

Deal with it.

Feel better, baby.

Maybe I should get her some soup.

Oh, yeah, that'll do it.

Here, look.

Page two, bottom left. Read it out loud.

Daily Book Critics Association awarded
this year's prize for full -length

fiction to Ira Woodbine for his novel,
Lowenstein's Lament.

Oh, Ira, congratulations.

Thanks. You should be so proud of
yourself.

I guess.

What do you mean you can't?

Well, my publisher expects me to write
another book. They gave me a big

Oh, no. I'm so sorry.

It's not a joke. What if I get blocked?

What if I wind up wandering around for
months in my bathroom without writing a

word? Before you know it, I'll turn to
drinking, end up penniless on the floor

of some bus station restroom, choking on
my own vomit.

Ira, you just won a major award. Can't
you just enjoy it for five minutes and

then choke on your vomit?

Yeah, I suppose you're right. Hey.

Why don't we get a bottle of champagne
and celebrate?

Right now?

Why not?

I'm sorry. I'm meeting Marianne for
lunch. Okay. What about tonight?

Tonight?

I can't.

I've got plans.

Date plans?

I didn't ask you that. It's none of my
business.

Don't worry. I can celebrate alone.

Ira, don't do that.

Do what?

Don't worry.

I can celebrate alone.

You're right. I'm sorry.

You just did it again.

Okay, okay.

I just...

Used to sharing this stuff with you.

Never mind.

I guess I should go.

Ira, I really am proud of you.

Thank you.

Tell Zoe I hope she feels better.

I will.

You don't think she faked that female
stuff to get out of the father -daughter

putt -putt tournament?

No, don't be silly. What 16 -year -old
girl doesn't love miniature golf with

Dad? Yeah, you're right.

Bye.

Okay, Zoe.

How's the salmon?

Perfect. No, no, leave that one. We're
still expecting a third. Whew.

It's a surprise.

Another gimlet?

Can do.

You're never going to live that down.

You said the same thing when you did
that musical version of Gandhi.

People forget.

Hi, sorry I'm late. Oh, hello, Sharon.
Sharon, this is my friend Sybil. Hi.

Hey.

Can you... Yeah, yeah, sit down.

Can I get you anything?

Just coffee. I'm on call.

Sharon's a very successful surgeon.

Oh. Stop it, Marianne. You sound like my
mother.

Oh, I'm sure she's very proud.

Have you told her about your new
boyfriend?

He's a surgeon, too.

No, he's a plastic surgeon.

I save lives.

Richard sucks the fat out of rich
people's asses.

They both work at St. Luke's. Isn't that
romantic?

Oh, speaking of which, it's probably the
hospital.

Excuse me.

Her boyfriend is a plastic surgeon at
St. Luke's and his name is Richard?

Uh -huh.

Your ex -husband is a plastic surgeon at
St. Luke's and his name is Richard?

Uh -huh.

You have made friends with this woman
and she has no idea who you are.

Aren't you proud of me?

Marianne, this is insane.

This is sick. No, it's brilliant. She
tells me everything.

Where he goes, what he does. Makes it so
much easier to stalk him.

That was Richard?

I'm taking him out for his birthday
tonight and I haven't even bought him

anything yet.

You know what's a fun gift?

One of those big oversized wool
cardigans.

That's a great idea.

Unless he's allergic to wool.

Why would you think that?

Well, I've known people whose throats
closed up and nearly suffocated when

wear wool.

Maybe I should ask him. No, that would
spoil the surprise.

So tell us more about this Richard.

Was it serious?

Well, I wish it were, but he can't
finalize the divorce until his wife is

released from the mental institution.

A mental institution?

Apparently the woman is nuts, Marianne.

You

know, a

lot of people say that psychiatrists are
really screwed up, but you appear quite

normal. People speak highly of
actresses, too.

No, what I meant is, it's so unusual to
find a man that's my age, employed,

single, heterosexual, not living in his
mother's basement.

Stop me when I'm wrong.

No, that's all true.

I do have a little dark secret, though,
I guess you could know about.

What?

I'm Spider -Man.

Kidding. Just kidding.

Don't do that.

How about tomorrow, instead of going to
a restaurant, you come to my place, I'll

make you dinner.

Oh, you cook, too?

I am so impressed.

I can do all sorts of things.

Oh,

Daddy, look at Mommy.

Oh, jeez, I'm sorry.

Mark?

Ira? You two know each other?

Mark's my shrink.

You're a shrink?

Dear diary.

I cannot believe my ex -wife is dating
my psychiatrist.

Hold on, hold on. Let's discuss this
calmly and rationally.

Zoe, go to your room. What's the point?
I'm already emotionally scarred.

Just go.

Ira, first of all...

I had no idea that Sybil was your ex
-wife. And secondly, I'm no longer your

psychiatrist because you stopped going
to therapy over a year ago. That's

because you said I was better.

You said he was better?

Ha! Good one, Mom!

Good one!

Very awkward. I think I should leave you
two to talk.

Sybil, thank you very much for a lovely
dinner.

I'll call you.

Good night, Mark. I'm sorry about all
this. Don't be.

Ira?

Saw you on TV.

Can do. Very nice.

Come on, let's hear it. Hear what? That
what you're doing is wrong? Heinous? A

crime against nature? Please.

Sybil, you were my wife. He was my
shrink between the two of you. You know

enough to destroy me.

Yeah, that was the plan. Go to dinner,
have a little wine, and then we're gonna

getcha.

Okay, how about this?

I forbid you to see him.

Forbid? All right, all right. Forbid's a
little strong. Beg. I beg you.

gonna tell me who to date.

If I decide to have a relationship with
Mark, it has nothing to do with my

relationship with you. But I had a
relationship with him first.

Top, you broke up with him.

Fine, have it your way. Date whoever you
want. Date everybody I ever confided

in. My accountant, my proctologist, my
rabbi. Better yet, take a knife and just

punch it in my heart.

If I do that, can I still date the
rabbi?

The eyes of Mary.

Hello? Marianne, where are you?

I'm on my way to 7 -Eleven to get some
gum.

At midnight?

They're having a sale.

What's up?

Are you sitting down?

Hold on.

Okay.

The psychiatrist I'm dating, he has iris
shrink.

You're kidding.

No, isn't it awful? That's great.

You can find out all of Iris' deep, dark
secrets.

That's you. You're the one who's
obsessed with your ex -husband.

Oh, I resent that.

Wait.

What?

Nothing there out of juicy fruit.

Anyway, I don't care about Ira's deep,
dark secrets. What I'm worried about is

what he's told Mark about me.

Oh, my God.

That's not Sharon.

stalking my husband, what do you think?

And he's kissing another woman.

Sharon? No, it's somebody else. He's
cheating on Sharon. He's cheating on my

friend. Marianne, she is not your
friend.

Oh, that's nice. Abandon her in her hour
of need. I hope if I ever sleep with

one of your ex -husbands, you'll be a
bit more loyal.

Marianne, start the car and drive away.

I can't talk now, Sybil.

I'm going in for a closer look.

You know any show tunes about dead
plastic surgeons?

Hi, Marianne. What are you doing here so
late?

I'm meeting a friend.

And here he is now.

Hello, pal.

I'll have another light beer.

Oh, somebody had a bad day. I just
walked into my ex -wife kissing my ex

-shrink. I know.

Of course you know. How long did it take
her to call you?

I could hear you getting in your car.

I don't want her going out with him,
Marianne.

He's a great guy. He's a professional.
He's successful.

He's sensitive.

He's me.

Only better.

Maybe you don't understand your role in
this conversation.

I'm sorry.

Poor Ira.

There, there.

Did she say when she was going out with
him again?

Why? Are you going to park in front of
his house and spy on them? Oh, Ira,

that's really sick.

Yeah, you're right.

Ira, trust me on this.

If you don't let go of Sybil, you'll
wind up hating her.

You've got to move on.

Was it hard letting go of Richard?

Well, it took two deputy sheriffs and a
stun gun, but eventually I let go.

Excuse me, my friend just arrived. But
if you ever need to talk, I'm here for

you. Thanks, Marianne. Anytime, Ira.

What was so important you couldn't tell
me over the phone?

The phones aren't safe.

They're not? Too easy to tap.

I'll teach you someday.

It's about that fellow Richard you've
been seeing.

What about him? Well, a friend of mine
who knows the woman he used to be

to was passing by his house and saw him
with another woman.

Another woman?

5 '8", 5 '9", blonde hair, green eyes,
thick ankle.

At least that's what my friend told me.

That bastard.

Sorry, don't interrupt.

I just wanted to say goodnight and
thanks again for the advice.

Maybe I can get over Sybil.

You good over Richard?

Richard? Her ex -husband.

The jockey? No, the plastic surgeon.

Good night.

Oh, yeah. I, um... Left out apart.

Well, dinner should be ready in about 20
minutes.

Great. You hungry?

Yeah.

What?

Oh, nothing. It's just so funny.

What is? Oh, you know, everything.

I meet you totally by accident, and you
turn out to be my ex -husband's ex

-shrink.

God knows what he's told you about me.

It's almost like I'm standing here
naked, only I'm not cold. I'm not naked.

have my clothes on. Please, God, shut me
up.

Is this going to be a problem? Of course
not. Don't be silly. Poor.

Oh, okay.

This is supposed to be a very good
Zinfandel.

How'd you know I like Zinfandel?

Oh, you ordered it the other night at
dinner?

Oh, of course. You're very observant.

Cheers. Cheers.

Sybil, I want to clear something up.

See, I charge $125 an hour.

Now, at those prices, my clients don't
usually discuss their ex -wife's

preferences.

Unless drinking was a problem.

Did I ever tell you I have a drinking
problem?

You know I can't discuss with my client
today.

Of course you can. I'm sorry.

There was that month or two at the
Kahlua, but it was towards the end of

marriage and I was having trouble
sleeping.

Maybe this is a bad idea. No, no, I'm
fine. I'm having fun.

Let's just change the subject. Okay.
Tell me about your day.

Well, I went shopping for a new car.
Really?

What are you looking for? Something in a
four -wheel drive.

I test drove a Jeep Cherokee.

Are you trying to be funny?

I don't understand. Oh, come on. Ira
must have told you the Cherokee story.

What Cherokee? You know, if we had owned
the car, even if we had rented the car,

I wouldn't have hesitated to make love
in it. But a car you're test driving,

sorry. To me, that is wrong.

That's like making love in a department
store display bed.

He told you I lost my sense of
adventure, right?

Right? Well, I happen to be very
creative sexually, but the one time, the

time I don't want to do something that's
all he remembers.

He doesn't remember the beach in Mexico
or the changing room in Nordstrom or the

time I picked him up at the airport with
nothing on but a fur coat.

Nothing at all?

You see?

He didn't even tell you that. All he did
was whine about the demise of our

sex... Like, not that it had anything to
do with a lack of communication or his

constant condescending attitude, or the
fact that he wore plaid boxers to bed

every single night of our entire
marriage, every single night. God, I

plaid. I can't stand to look at it. I'll
kill myself if you send me to Scotland.

I would.

It seems to me that you may have some
residual feelings towards your ex

-husband. For Ira?

Well, if you'd like, I could refer you
to someone.

A shrink? You're telling me I need a
shrink?

What do you think?

I think I don't want to sit here and be
analyzed and told I need professional

help when I'm supposed to be out on a
date. Have you ever thought about that?

No. Well, maybe you should, Mr.

Hickman Zinfandel.

In the meantime, excuse me if I don't
want to get on your couch.

And one more thing.

What?

You could be right.

No, he said. This isn't right.

The car doesn't belong to us.

Hold on.

Who is it?

It's your ex -wife.

This can't be good.

Cannot be good.

Still want to celebrate your book award?

Now?

Well, yeah, unless you're in the middle
of someone. Something.

No, no, I'm just writing. Come on in.

So, uh, why aren't you out with Mark?

I was.

I want you to know, I was out of line
the other night. If you want to date

you should go right ahead.

Did he, uh, talk about me?

Yeah. He did? What a blabbermouth.
Really? He even told me about the, you

Oh, God, Thibault, that was a long time
ago, and I was mad at you.

What are you talking about?

Nothing.

What are you talking about?

Ira, I was teething.

I knew that.

It came by because we never had a chance
to really celebrate your success.

Oh. Well, that's great.

You know, you were a big part of that
success, Dibble.

Yeah, right.

We fought the entire time you were
writing that book. Which is why I locked

myself in a den for two years and wrote
about a lonely, tormented man trapped in

a destructive marriage.

You told me it was about your parents.

You bought that?

Bite me, Ira.

I'd like to propose a toast to the best
novel of the year, Lowenstein's Lament.

Congratulations, Woodbine. I'm damn
proud of you.

Thanks.

Mark didn't talk about me at all?

Well, actually, he does have an odd sort
of theory about us. What does he know?

The guy's a quack.

He thinks I still have unresolved
feelings for you. And yet at times I

to be amazingly perceptive.

So.

Do you?

Maybe.

Do you?

You know I do.

But I've been giving it a lot of
thought.

We both know we can't live together
without tearing each other apart.

So, maybe we should work on just being
friends.

Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.

Friends.

Friends.

Of course.

There's no law against friends being
really friendly.

Once more, for old time's sake.

Hmm.

You think?

What could it hurt? We're already
divorced.

Good night, Ira.

What?

What did I do?

You see the second floor window?

The one that's open?

You think you can get it in there?

Easy.

Water -based or oil?

Oil. What am I, an amateur?

You see why I like her?

I can't believe I'm doing this. Someday
I'll write songs about it.

Oh, Sharon!